Raph withdrew, smeared Wyatt’s slick over his cock. Then he fitted himself between Wyatt’s legs, one knee against Wyatt’s back, the other by his stomach, grinding their cocks together. Wyatt’s slick coated them both. Raph’s cock was big against his, hungry, and Wyatt leaked onto him.
He spread his cheeks, showing Raph his hole, trying to tempt him inside. Raph groaned, leaning back to fit his tip between Wyatt’s cheeks.
“You’re sure,” Raph growled, his chest heaving, his fingers shaking a little.
“Yeah.”
And Raph rolled his hips, breaching his hole, sinking in. He was big. Wyatt groaned, at the same time Raph did.
Raph stretched Wyatt open, thick and solid, sliding in a couple inches, before withdrawing a little. Wyatt whined. Raph caught his hand, squeezed it, as though he was reassuring Wyatt that he wouldn’t leave. Then he sunk back inside, deeper now, working his way in slowly so Wyatt’s body had time to adjust.
After years of only toys keeping him company, Raph’s cock was refreshing. Good. So damn hot, with the way it slid inside him, sinking all the way in. Wyatt’s breath snagged in his throat, his mouth so dry he couldn’t speak.
“Good?” Raph whispered, his breathing unsteady.
“Fuck,” Wyatt gasped. “Yes.”
The moment the word left his lips, Raph snapped his hips. Pleasure rolled through Wyatt’s body, a spark of lightning bliss. Raph was inside. This shouldn’t be happening. But Raph felt delicious, every inch of him, and Wyatt’s cock leaked shamelessly onto the bed.
“Gods, you’re tight,” Raph growled. He leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth from Wyatt’s ear, his chest heaving against his shirt. “Don’t—don’t know how long I can last.”
Wyatt groaned. “Just fuck me, Raph.”
Raph threaded his fingers through Wyatt’s hair. He turned Wyatt’s face toward his, pressed their lips together, and Wyatt moaned into his mouth. Raph’s tongue slipped inside, tangling with his. Raph tasted like salt, like teak. And Wyatt realized then that they weren’t just brothers—that they fitted together like alpha and omega.
It should feel wrong. Instead, Raph thrust hard inside him, and everything felt right.
“Harder,” he gasped. Raph hit his prostate. Wyatt arched, pleasure searing through his body.
Raph noticed. He began to angle his thrusts that way, sometimes missing, sometimes grinding up against that sweet spot. Wyatt’s vision blurred, his body tensing up.
“Like that?” Raph breathed against his lips, his cock a thick length inside Wyatt, pounding him into the bed. He kissed along Wyatt’s jaw, his arms strong around Wyatt’s back and chest, his abs rippling. Wyatt barely noticed. His body thrummed with hunger, his cock so hard that he’d spill the moment Raph touched him.
Raph reached down, sliding his palm along Wyatt’s belly, down to the base of his cock. He pressed his lips against Wyatt’s neck, where his scent gland was. For a moment, Wyatt thought Raph might bite him there, claim him as his mate.
The thought made him so hard it hurt.
“I can’t hold on longer,” Raph growled, his breath soughing against Wyatt’s cheek. “Gonna pull out.”
But Wyatt was so close. “No. Stay.” Wyatt caught Raph’s forearm, squeezing him. “Just—just a little more. Please.”
“I c-can’t,” Raph hissed, the tendons on his neck strained. His hips stuttered. “Or I’ll put a baby inside you.”
It sounded good, somehow. Wyatt couldn’t remember why that shouldn’t happen.
He reached down, squeezing his own cock. One long, smooth stroke, and he tipped past the edge, pleasure crashing through his body, waves and waves and waves of bliss that washed through his mind, wiped his thoughts blank. His body clenched around Raph, his cock jerking as it spurted.
“Fuck!” Raph slid out of him. Wyatt felt the hot, wet splashes of Raph’s come streak across his thigh, his ass. Raph rolled onto the mattress next to him, stroking himself, pressing his forehead against the sheets. “Damn it, Wy,” he gasped, sweat glistening on his skin. “The fuck d’you do that?”
“Don’t know,” Wyatt muttered, collapsing into the mattress, trying to think past the haze in his mind. His body relaxed, his pulse slowing. That had been good. So damn good, and Raph had been so right for him, even after all these years.
“I don’t—I can’t tell where I’ve shot,” Raph muttered, rubbing his face. “Gods damn it.”
“What?” Wyatt blinked, the cogs of his mind slow to grind back into motion.
Raph groaned. “I might’ve come inside you.”
4
Wyatt
Raph’s words took a while to sink in.
Then Wyatt’s insides chilled, just as quickly as he’d found his release. “No way. I mean. No. You couldn’t have.”
All he could remember of his orgasm was the blinding high of it, the breathless, toe-curling pleasure that had seared through his body. Not where Raph’s cock had been right as it happened.
Could Raph really have come inside him? Wyatt reached down, touched the sticky streaks on his thigh, his ass. There was come right outside his hole. Was there any inside?
“Fuck,” he said, his heart pattering.
“Yeah. Fuck. Think a douche might work?” Raph turned onto his side, cracking his eyes open. He looked grim then, and slightly regretful. Like he wished he hadn’t touched Wyatt.
Wyatt swallowed. Maybe we shouldn’t have done that. Oh, gods. “A douche might push anything inside further up. I don’t know.”
“Damn it.” Raph shuffled on the bed, propping himself up between Wyatt’s legs. From that angle, he got an eyeful of Wyatt’s cock and balls. But what was new, now that they’d fucked?
Wyatt savored the memory of Raph inside him, so he didn’t have to think about getting pregnant, about the gut-curdling possibility of conceiving Raph’s baby. I should’ve just left.
Nine years ago, he’d spent his heat with Max, an alpha he’d found at the bar downtown. At first, Max had seemed kind. He’d bought Wyatt a beer, and Wyatt had followed him home. Then Max had sneered, thrown Wyatt around, and Wyatt had borne the brunt of his violence. Wyatt had almost seduced Raph. He deserved punishment.
For the next two months, Max had used him, had kept Wyatt around. He’d told Wyatt he’d been snipped, and then he’d fucked Wyatt every night, bareback.
